Mea Culpa
by Lif61
Summary: Dean apologizes to Sam about Gadreel.


**A/N: Takes place some time after 14x09 "The Spear".**

 **WARNING: Rape mention.**

* * *

Dean wasn't sure he'd even worked up the courage to do this, but Cas had pressed him. He stood outside Sam's bedroom door, hand raised with uncertainty, all of him tense, stomach drawn tight into knots. He could barely breathe. But Dean imagined his shame of going back to the library where Cas was, of telling him that he hadn't been able to talk to his brother.

He leaned his head against the door, letting out a huff. Sam must've noticed, must've heard something, because before Dean could properly react the door was opening, and they were left staring at each other, both equally surprised.

"Dean?"

Oh god, he wanted to turn and run away.

 _Stop being stupid,_ he told himself. _You've faced monsters, demons, angels, archangels. You can face your own brother._

But he looked into Sam's hazel eyes and found himself swallowing roughly, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Dean, what is it?"

Yep, he couldn't do it.

"Never mind," he forced out, hating the sound of his own voice, hating how weak and scared he must've seemed.

He turned to start walking away, cheeks reddening, and Sam grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back, stepping into the hallway with him.

"Hey, what is it?"

Dean tried to look him in the eye, but found he couldn't. Gaze lowered, scratching at the back of his head, he mumbled, "Nothing."

"Dean," Sam urged.

Dean turned and paced to the other side of the hallway, giving himself space, needing that space. Besides, he didn't want the hatred he felt for himself to pour out of himself and swallow his brother up. He'd already hurt Sam way too much as it was. And now he understood.

He leaned against the wall, and ended up staring at Sam's nose. Yeah, that was close enough to his eyes. Sam's face was drawn with worry, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other almost seeming ready to reach out to him in case he needed him. Dean wanted to turn from it, to not let Sam help him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve anything, not after what he'd done to his brother, not after he _knew_ , not after he _understood_.

"Sam," he started, hating how his tone was unsteady, uncertain, "I'm sorry."

Sam gave him a half-smile, clearly confused. "About what?"

"About…" Dean took in a deep breath, looked down the hallway, hoping that Castiel or Jack would come walking by, serve as something to save him from this conversation.

But there was no saving him.

He had to do this.

But guilt was stealing his voice, and shame was smothering it.

Still, somehow, words came out: "About Gadreel."

God, Dean could barely get the angel's name past his lips. He tried to not think it, tried to not see hurt in Sam's eyes when he looked at him. But that hurt was there, even if Sam pretended it wasn't, even if he surely just wanted to forget about it, pretend it had never happened. Dean had been doing that. Pretending.

It was easy to think he understood possession.

Someone takes control of you for a little bit, and that's it.

Just a little joy ride.

But no. It was so much more than that.

It was being laid bare before someone you didn't even know, being dug into, and entered, and _used_. There was no hiding, no covering yourself, no _winning_. All of you became all of them whether you wanted it or not.

Dean hadn't said yes to that, but Michael hadn't cared.

He remembered that Sam hadn't truly said yes to that with Lucifer. He'd been pushed into it.

His throat ached just thinking about it, and Dean found himself blinking, the corners of his eyes pricking hot with tears. He looked down, staring at the floor between their feet, feeling as if that space between them needed to close, like things needed to be made right, once and for all.

Dean wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't do this.

He could hardly live with himself as it was.

Gadreel.

He'd helped Gadreel possess Sam.

He'd helped an angel violate his little brother.

Dean couldn't help but think it was like being raped.

He'd made sure his little brother had gotten raped.

"I didn't understand," he forced out, feeling as if the words weren't adequate. He wasn't sure there was any way for him to explain just how much he hurt from knowing how deeply he'd wronged his brother.

It was his job to protect him, and he'd failed beyond belief.

"I didn't… I didn't _know_ what it was like… to be possessed. I thought… I don't know, I guess I thought it was kinda like being asleep the whole time, like it was no big deal, like… like it was something you could just bounce back from. I…" He forced himself to look up at Sam now, to let him see the tears in his eyes - not to make him feel guilty for hurting, but to hope he understood that he was filled to the brim with regret, was aching from it so fiercely he didn't even want to know himself - and he went on, "I didn't know how violating it was."

Sam's nose twitched in that way it did when he was trying to not sniffle, to not cry. His eyes were red-rimmed, emotion that Dean could barely handle to look at staring right at him.

Oh, to think he'd caused that pain! It stabbed him right through the heart, and then didn't stop.

"I didn't know," he whispered. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

"Dean-" Sam began, sounding as if he was ready to invalidate himself, ready to justify Dean.

"No," he interrupted. "Don't you _dare_ say I did what I thought was right."

"Dean, I'm alive because of you!" Sam argued.

"That don't make it right," he said back. "I _made_ an angel _violate_ you. I did. And I can't take that back. I can _never_ take that back, or even begin to make it right. But now that I _know_ , I'm gonna do what I can. I promise I won't ever do that to you again. Your body is your body. Your head is your head. _You_ _belong_ _to_ _you_. No one else. And it's gonna stay that way. It's gonna fucking stay that way, so help me god."

Sam was the one looking down this time, avoiding Dean's intense gaze. Now he did sniffle, and Dean saw a tear trail down his brother's cheek.

"I tried to forget, you know?" Sam said. "Tried to think it didn't happen, because how could it have happened? How could my brother have done that to me? But… But you're right. It did happen. It happened, and… and…" He shrugged, at a loss for words, and then he looked at Dean again, more tears falling, upper lip trembling. "And I wanted to hate you for it."

"Sammy, you can hate me. _I_ hate me."

Sam shook his head. "Don't say that."

"What? It's true. I hate me because of hurting you." He walked towards Sam, closing the space between them, and he reached out to hold him. "I hurt you. I can't ignore it any longer, you can't ignore it. It's not _right_. So this is me doing what I can to make something so _disgusting_ right. I'm sorry. God, Sammy, I'm so sorry."

Sam said nothing as Dean stood on his tiptoes, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It wasn't long before Sam was holding him, arms reaching up, hands clutching at his shoulder blades in that way he used to when he was a little kid, when he was frightened and needed his older brother. His head was buried against his shoulder, and Dean wanted to ignore the way his brother's body shook against him with repressed sobs. But he didn't.

He had done this.

He needed to face it.

Maybe this apology would help him, help both of them.

Eventually, Sam murmured, "I'm sorry you understand, Dean. I never wanted you to-"

"Hey, hey. Sh. Don't you worry about me," he soothed. "Don't worry. You got through, I'll get through. Just gotta follow after my little brother."

Sam did sob then, almost sounding like a laugh.

"You did good, Sam. You've always done good. Now I get to look up to you."

Dean felt like he couldn't hold his brother close enough, as if he needed Sam to understand how _awful_ he felt for what he'd done, how he wished for the life of him that he could take it back.

But then he wouldn't be there hugging him. Maybe that'd be for the best. Someone who helped an angel rape their brother didn't deserve that brother at all. Dean was beyond grateful that Sam still wanted him, that he was able to look at him, and be in the same room as him, and let himself be held by him.

Dean was grateful he hadn't lost him because of what he'd done. And now he would understand if he had.

Because of Michael he knew.

And because of Gadreel he deserved Michael.

He deserved all of it.


End file.
